Snow White 白雪姫
by elletheenigma
Summary: With a face as pale as the snow and hair as dark as pitch, she existed out of place and out of touch with the world. However, with one fateful meeting, she learned to live and to learn and to love with her own set of dwarves - not the typical kind. In fact, she was the dwarf among giants, among miracles - the seven of them.
1. Fluttering Snowflakes

I've wanted to write (and attempt to do) a fic in the third person for KnB.

So, this is about as far as I've gotten - it's a trial-run.

I hope you all enjoy, and tell me how I do. (It'll be a bit boring for now, but hey, maybe I'll make it more interesting as soon as a more concrete plot enters my brain.)

And, seeing as it's Christmas Eve where I am, I hope you all have blessed holidays!

{Disclaimer: I do not own _Kuroko no Basuke_, no matter how much I wish I did. I only own my OCs. Poem also does not belong to me (found on a blog I was on).}

* * *

Chapter I: Fluttering Snowflakes

* * *

_Caress the one, the never-fading_  
_rain in your heart - the tears of snow-white sorrow_  
_Caress the one, the hiding amaranth_  
_In a land of the daybreak_  
_-_Nightwish_ -_ _Amaranth_

* * *

"Ayako! Ayako, where are you?!"

A woman's voice. More specifically: A passive-aggressive woman's voice, clearly unused to the concept of being overly loud and egregiously distracting. Obviously, she disliked raising it up to the octave she had managed to reach.

It was her mother's voice. Perhaps that's why the middle sister felt the necessity to block it out with everything in her power. Headphones on; music on (a nice piano medley of Christmas carols); book out. The perfect kind of distractions. The ones that scream: "Let nothing bother you! Embrace the solitude and open your thoughts." Or, at least, that's what she was going for.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

Simple onomatopoeia. Three, quick and precise knocks upon the door, one after the other. Enough to show irrational thinking, paranoia and urgency. That was her mother. Exactly how she could describe her when she was panicking.

However, she simply ignored it by turning to the next page in her poetry book. It wasn't her problem whatsoever, so why should she care?

With a slight rattling, her mother fished the key from its location under the flower pot next to her room – roses. She loved her out-of-season blossoms, even though they totally ate up her measly allowance.

In delight, her mother smirked quickly and opened the door. Looks like the middle daughter was unsuccessful today.

Said daughter glanced up, laudably gave her mother a once-over and looked back down, relishing in a new line of beautiful poetry:

_izureni, / utsukushisa ha kie / amasa wa awaku_

[eventually, / the beauty will fade / the sweetness lost]

She sighed, at peace. Anything would please her at this point.

And then said daughter realized her error, and ever-so-slowly, removed the headphones from her blue-black hair so that they rested respectfully around her pale neck. The poetry book was then placed carefully atop the small bedside post underneath the simple black lamp. Satisfied with her things, she finally, _finally_ decided to pay attention to her mother.

With a slight eye-roll, Morine Ame looked at her daughter. "Yuki, where is Ayako?"

Yuki heard the concern in her voice, but chose to ignore it. "I'm not her caretaker. Ayako can go wherever she so desires. If she decided to run away, I'd let her."

Her mother flinched at the cold indifference in her own daughter's voice. "You – so I heard – told her she could go and play with her friends. It's been four and a half hours. Now, where could she possibly be for that long? It's Christmas Eve, and I'm concerned."

Yuki pointed to the window, completely unfazed. Her mother looked over and saw the precipitation outside – snow. "They probably decided to build some snowmen, maybe a fort or two. They're children; they do that."

A murmured, "You're a child, too," seemed to slightly break her from her defiance.

Despite her outward demeanor, Yuki decided to get up. Moving slowly from her bed – feet first – she took three lackadaisical steps and passed her mother through the doorway frame. She ambled toward the front of the home, put on a simple knitted-cap and her snow boots as well as her coat, a soft, white one, with tiny, smooth brown buttons – her older sister's hand-me-down, now wonderfully hers.

"I'll go get her."

And away, she walked into the blessed snow that she loved.

Yuki was a middle school student. She preferred to consider herself a run-of-the-mill, forced-to-go sort of a kid, but that wasn't the case. In fact, that was not the girl Yuki could even remotely resemble in a million years.

People just didn't know who she was. She was quiet; she was serious; she was . . . apparently scary. So, strange and often a little bit too interesting misconceptions grew around the girl that coexisted with humans, but never really conversed with them. That's what made Yuki so strange; she was snow in a sea of summer. Something cold in a pool of heat.

Ayako was only a few years younger in grade school. She struggled with reading, which was something of a disgrace for one as fluent as Yuki. It annoyed the two of them greatly that they could be so different despite the same familial bloodline. Her mother reciprocated the feelings as she simply could not understand how two siblings could bicker as often as they do.

Perhaps that was why Yuki didn't care. Or maybe it wasn't that she didn't care; maybe she didn't want to.

Kicking a stray pebble into the snow, Yuki proceeded to the next street cross-walk.

'Only one more block,' she thought. Ayako would only go so far as to her elementary school to make snowmen. She wasn't as bold as another sister in the family – the eldest. But that was a story for another time. And unfortunately, not a time as care free as building snowmen. Nay, the mysterious child will maintain her status as of yet – a mystery.

Quickly approaching the metal gates to the school, Yuki could see Ayako preparing to sustain the hit of a snowball. Playing with her were two rowdy looking boys; she never was one to play with girls. She called them "doll-like damsels with too many bows to play rough."

Yuki could only partially agree. She'd floated between the "doll-like" stage and the passive tom-boy phase through her years. It'd left her out of place in middle school. What girl fluctuates between both phases so diligently? This behavior drove other students crazy.

Unsurprising when a person is so quiet. Not shy; quiet. There is a broad difference. Quiet is a chosen act; a person wants to keep their mouth shut, their opinions and mindset to themselves. Being shy is far harder to deal with, and sadder. Yuki was quiet. She opted to stay alone. That's what made her even weirder.

Watching in preparation for her sister's squeal, Yuki waited for the ball to make contact. She knew that once the cries started, she'd actually have to demonstrate some sort of sister care.

How annoying.

But it didn't. The ball didn't. It didn't make contact. At all.

It moved right back at the other boys.

Yuki scrunched up her face in confusion. 'What on earth . . .'

Walking over to where Ayako was located, Yuki saw what had happened, or rather, who. However, upon looking at him, she realized that maybe the 'who' she saw was someone to be unseen.

It was a boy, about as tall as she was – which was not very – with light, sky blue hair and a matching pair of eyes. A shadow in a sea of snow.

_Kuroko._

* * *

A/N: So, as of August, erm, 7th, I added a bit to this, and I think I'm going to continue because I got a lot of praise for this tiny introduction/prologue, so thanks a million. Hopefully it'll be a fun ride.


	2. Misdirection

So, this chapter was almost what I would consider as weird to write for me. A) It's no longer the time period I had initially written it in. B) It's extremely warm out and I'm writing about the snow. C) I haven't updated it since the 24th. And D) It's in third person.

Anyways, thank you guys for all the follows, favorites and even a review. Crazy how one chapter brought all that on! Please keep it up. It inspired me to write another chapter.

Sorry for the wait as well. It was such a busy year, and the first chapter was just an idea on my part.

It's just more backstory with some Kuroko in it as a remnant from last chapter. It's going to become a slower build up to the Generation of Miracles while in Teiko. So, just bear with me as we get up to Yuki interacting and meeting with all of them. However, it's not only going to be about their Teiko days either.

{Disclaimer: I do not own _Kuroko no Basuke_, no matter how much I wish I did. I only own my OCs.}

* * *

Chapter II: Misdirection

* * *

_A sister is both your mirror - and your opposite. -Elizabeth Fishel_

* * *

Yuki couldn't seem to pull her eyes away. Not from the boy, or his striking hair color, or his blue pools that seemed far too bright and too, well, _blue _to be eyes.

Stepping back, she gave him a once over, regrettably breaking free of his eye's hold on her. He wasn't tall. Actually, he might have been a tad shorter than she was. His hair seemed to go by the wayside. 'I bet he has horrible bedhead in the morning.' And his attire wasn't anything too overdone.

He was utterly simple. And yet what he did was driving Yuki insane. She just couldn't seem to wrap her head around his subtle, yet unbelievably effective movement that sent a snowball flying away from her sister's face.

"_Unnieeee_, won't you stop looking at that nice boy's face?" Ayako whined. With her petite frame, blue-black hair, vibrant jacket and sparkly purple boots, anyone could tell she was eccentric. Her size gave nothing away; in fact, vocally alone, she could fill an entire house with that whiny voice. Thus why when she told that boy what she said, Yuki could only cringe; he wasn't the only one who could hear it, and Ayako knew it, too.

In embarrassment, she could feel a slight blush attempt to make its way to her cheeks. After giving him a quick smile, she looked down and frowned at her sister. "What did I tell you about calling me 'unnie' in public – let alone anywhere?"

She sighed. 'Already being difficult. Should I hit you with a snowball as well?' Yuki rolled her eyes at the thought. Sometimes, _sometimes_ it'd be nice to have a young, non-obsessive Korean loving sister who enjoyed breaking into Hangul more than she did her own native tongue – Japanese. It wasn't that she minded. The problem was that her talent was actually kind of cool to watch, and entertaining. She just didn't want to admit it.

"Pshh, don't tell me what did do, Unnie," Ayako called out. "Anyways, thank you so, so much!" At that, she bowed to the boy who helped her out. "I was almost entirely positive it was going to hit me in the face, but you stopped it."

'No. He didn't stop it. He . . . torpedoed the poor thing to the other side of the field. Totally different.'

Yuki realized – too late – that her sister had continued talking, a favorite and unfortunate habit of hers.

"Sorry about, Unnie. She seems to permanently wake up on the wrong side of the bed. It's so sad she had to come get me. Sometimes, it's so much fun just playing in the snow and not hearing her nag, aish," Ayako sighed, as though she had the problem.

Already feeling the vein pulse at the top of Yuki's forehead, she grabbed Ayako by the wrist and bowed to the boy, feeling absolutely humiliated. "It's not like that at all. I'm just the medium keeping her in line. Thank you for taking care of her."

With that, she walked away, forcibly pulling Ayako, who seemed to be greatly enjoying the struggle.

Knowing that she'd lost, Ayako gave a grandiose wave to the boy and gave him a big, "See you!" all the while being dragged away.

'What a brat.'

"Unnie, you can let go now. I'm coming, aren't I?"

"Ayako, why don't you ever listen?" Yuki put her hands – now free of their duty as shackles – into her pockets. "You talk to strangers; you continue to elicit foreign nicknames and phrases; you blatantly disrespect your elders; you -"

"I don't consider you my elder. You're not that much older than me. Two years doesn't make you my elder. Mei was my older sister. Not you." Ayako seemed to have begun the dreaded rant. "And you're so rude. You completely shrugged off what that boy did. Your 'thank you' was totally lameeee. Unnieeee, why can't you be nice just once in your life?! You didn't even get his nameee!"

Yuki glared. Bringing up Mei and degrading her in the span of only a few minutes. She so didn't want to deal with this nonsense today.

"Well, for one, let's state the obvious: he's a stranger. And for two, being nice requires _effort._ I put in some effort and was nice. I said 'thank you,' which I didn't need to do, and I dragged you away, which seems appropriate for a brat like yourself. Now, we're going to go home, and you're going to explain why you were out so long while I take a warm bath."

Ayako rolled her eyes and pouted. "Okaa-san will let me go first, and you know it."

"Then you better run if you want to make sure."

And so the cold one, and the bratty one, ran to their home in hopes to achieve the golden dream in the abysmal evening – a nice, warm bath.

* * *

"I got here first! Yess!"

"Ayako, quit yelling. It's not like you won a marathon." Pushing past her sister, she added, "It's only because I tripped out of pity for your little purple hands that you won. Who takes their gloves off while in a snowball fight anyways?"

"Nuh-uh, Unnieee. I won fair and square! You just can never admit to losing. And to make the perfect snowball, one must remove their gloves." With that, she stuck out her tongue and ran to her mother.

"Who goes inside and forgets to take their snowshoes off?" Yuki mumbled in annoyance. "And only a complete idiot would remove their gloves. You've clearly never properly learned how to make a snowball."

A slight chuckle arose from the corner. "I remember the days when a certain someone had a good enough sum of energy to do the same, don't you?"

Looking up into her father's eyes, she just shrugged. "Snowshoe wise or snowball wise, it's impolite and illogical. That's why I'm complaining. You know she won't wipe the water and snow remnants away, and Okaa-san will be busy with dinner and then who gets to clean? Me. It's always me."

Chuckling again, he turned another page in the pamphlet he was reading. "That's the most you've said in the past three days, Yuki. Let your mother and sister duke it out then. Time your bath at the exact same moment that they decide the floor needs cleaning."

Yuki smirked. Anyone could tell where Ayako's bratty ways came from. It was obvious as soon as he chuckled. With his mildly controlled, but well-known to be crazy onyx hair, his large frame and dark brown eyes that seemed to sparkle as soon as he suggested the tiniest bit of rebellion, her father seemed to reveal a part of his pranking past back when he was the younger Morine Hideo. Behaviorally, it would appear her parents continued to be polar opposites. They must really attract.

As Yuki was about to walk away, she realized she wanted to ask her father a question. "Oto-san?"

"Hrm, yes, my awfully talkative version of Yuki?"

"A boy did something weird today." She attempted to demonstrate how he moved the snowball. "It was going to hit Ayako in the face-"

"Weird of you to late that one go~" He called out. "Thought you'd let it hit her in the face~"

Yuki ignored the jabs at her past behaviors in which she'd let Ayako trip and fall just to spite her and continued.

"—and he came out of nowhere – it seemed – and did that motion I just made. The ball seemed to literally fly away with a good amount of force, too. Do you know how he did it, or what it even is?"

Her father sat back and lifted up a bit of his mouth, seeming to have bitten his bottom lip in thought. "Hmm, a misdirection technique of sorts, perhaps?"

Yuki turned her head. "A what?"

"Misdirection. It's a basketball technique some players use. It's really intricate passing; I guess you could call it that. You have to be extremely attentive to watch where the ball is located and whom to pass it to. You're saying a boy did that? One of the ones Ayako was playing with?"

"Well, no, but yeah. I mean, he was there, but he wasn't Ayako's age. If anything, he was around mine. And he 'misguided' it, yeah. But with a snowball. And of course, he wasn't passing to anyone. It was a really weird experience. He was almost akin to a ghost."

He chuckled again. "You should go out with Ayako more often. I'm sure the outdoors would provide plenty more of those 'weird' experiences. Maybe you'll see even more of those 'ghost'-like figures that we call _humans._"

Yuki groaned and walked away. "That's not funny, and you know it!"

Walking to her bedroom, she realized what the growing dread was that seemed to grow the longer she talked to her father: Ayako had gotten to the bathroom before she could. Meaning: her mother planned on having _her _clean up Ayako's mess.

"She's insane, I tell you! I'm going to go crazy."

Behind the door, Ayako was actually waiting for this moment of victory just to hear Yuki groan and smiled. "Me: two; Unnie: zero!"

* * *

After being ushered to clean the walkway with her father mocking her the entire time for taking too long to walk up the stairs – as if she were _that_ slow! – she took her bath. Her soaps were covered in bubbles thanks to a certain colorful child, the towels damp. 'Tch, totally annoying. Next time, Ayako, I'll get the bath first. Next time.'

After the 'Not as Amazing as Expected' bath, Yuki went to her room – her safe haven – and began to research. Not just any research but basketball related research. She was going to learn this holiday season – whether it killed her or not – on how to play a sport she'd never even wondered about until now: basketball.

Maybe then, and only then, would she get to meet that mysterious boy with the bizarre ability again.


	3. Of Glasses, Fire and Bubbly Pinkettes

So, I'm back with a new installment to this story, and because I was gone, it's a bit longer than normal, which I'm sure will be a nice thing, yeah?

I hope it's been a nice holiday season for those who've been celebrating this time of year.

Happy reading!

_Disclaimer: {I do not own anything Kuroko no Basuke related, unfortunately. I do own my OCs, Ayako, Akako, and Yuki. Quote belongs to Edvard Munch and the _Ogura Hyakunin Isshu _also does not belong to me, nor does any psychology mentioning of Synesthesia.}_

* * *

Chapter III: Of Glasses, Fire and Bubbly Pinkettes

* * *

_The colors live a remarkable life of their own after they have been applied to the canvas. – Edvard Munch_

* * *

A certain raven-haired girl sat in a dull classroom surrounded by school uniforms, blackboards filled with a menagerie of words and numbers, and windows featuring the outside world known to all schoolboys and schoolgirls as freedom.

With the gossiping mouths of girls and the aggressive sounds of boys messing around, everything became white noise. Nothing was as important as the book entitled _Basketball 101_ that the girl was completely engrossed in.

Well, that is until a rather high-pitched voice broke through all the other noises.

"So, how does the infamous Ice Queen go from corny poetry and outlandishly bizarre fantasy novels to Basketball rules, guidelines and other boredom that only a prepubescent male would find entertaining?"

There, berating her in her peripheral line of sight was none other than her sardonic childhood friend whom she'd much rather consider a close acquaintance, Shibata Akako, a fiery, red-headed matrix of energy and sarcastic wit. Akako was someone Yuki could admire for her energy and demean for her negligence in obeying the beauty of silence and tranquility. She was truly a spark waiting to ignite.

Knowing that postponing a response any longer would only truly end in disaster, Yuki found a way to admonish her eccentric friend.

"You do realize basketball can be played equally by both genders, yes?"

Akako scoffed. "That didn't even answer my question, Yuki! Stop reading for once in your life, you bookworm!" Putting her hands on her hips, Akako bent so that she was just above eye level with Yuki. It was time to finally encounter the giant.

Yuki looked up in the purest form of nonchalance. She'd gotten enough badgering from her sister and teachers in school to know that for some reason, people enjoyed her company more when her head was _not_ in a book. This type of attack barely even bothered her. However, such a fact did not change the belief that books were far more entertaining than any reality Yuki could be a part of, an idea so strange that not even her parents could understand why she felt the need to hide behind the pages written by a plethora of authors.

Sighing impolitely, Yuki mumbles out an unsettled, "I've stopped reading. Are you pleased now?"

Akako clicked her tongue, annoyed. Apparently her sarcasm would go underappreciated today.

Continuing far unhappier than she would have been if she'd had the pleasure of including some snark into the conversation, Yuki continues, "I've grown . . . mildly attached to basketball. It's interesting."

"'Attached.' You've grown attached to something. Well isn't this idea just fascinating!" With such an expected sarcastic remark, Yuki cringed.

"Wait, Akako! Don't you dare say –"

Entirely ignoring Yuki, Akako raised her voice several decibels higher than it already was. "Did you hear that everyone? Our dearest Ice Queen actually likes something!"

Garnering the attention of many, several of her peers actually felt the need to glance over at Yuki and her boisterous friend with interest – enough so to make Yuki feel ill.

"What is with you and Ayako always bringing unwanted attention to me?! Would you sit down and actually look like you go to school and want to get a sufficient education!"

Yuki looked down at her desk while her face grew several unfortunate shades redder than her friend's hair.

Laughing at Yuki, she sat down rather flamboyantly. "I'm happy for you, don't you get it? You haven't liked anything for as long as I've known you. I just wish you'd – oh! I don't know – explain yourself! There's a reason why I consider you my friend, and yet you always find ways to be as secretive as ever."

"Did you have to share with the rest of the class? And the say stupid nickname as well?" Yuki hated that monster of a nickname that she'd been ungraciously given.

"I remember the days when you loved it~"

Glaring over at Akako, Yuki saw a different gaze watching her from the corner of the room. A different red.

A passionate red. The red that made her think of the Ogura Hyakunin Isshu, specifically the seventeenth poem, _Ariwara no Narihira_. His eyes were that very same rich autumn red.

Watching Yuki's gaze, Akako looked over to see what caught her eye. "Oh my! Did I actually manage to get the attention of the one and only Akashi Seijuurou?! He's usually reading all the time, too! What a glorious day!"

"Who can read with you yelling the entire time?!" Yuki lightly slammed her notebook on Akako's head.

* * *

It was Math class – the worst class of the day in a certain raven-haired girl's opinion. Math was a trying task on a daily basis, but coupled with an overly strict teacher and her big-mouthed friend, Yuki was at a loss. The numbers always seemed to blur into a cobweb of dysfunction. Only certain aspects of math were enjoyable, and those moments were always cherished in Yuki's heart. Unfortunately, it seemed math teachers always knew which sections were better than others, so naturally, those were almost always the shortest.

Math was not only difficult based on her teacher and certain inability to retain the specific amount of formulas that piled up on each other every year. No, Yuki had noticed an increasingly weird trend whenever she looked at numbers: she saw colors associated with certain numbers. When she attempted to explain to Akako once how disconcerting it was to see colors with numbers, she gave her a startled look as though she'd lost it, and practically blurted to the entire class that she'd associated colors with numbers, which most certainly would have landed her in the nurse's office.

Yuki just as soon realized that most people shouldn't overhear her "talent" of sorts. Knowing her parents wouldn't like to hear that their daughter was experiencing a strange phenomenon, Yuki privately looked to books to answer her growing concerns.

She had Synesthesia, a concept in which a union of senses is made in the brain. One sense stimulates a second one. Yuki had grapheme, a color synesthesia in which numbers may appear colored in a certain fashion.

Learning in school was always like painting a picture when numbers appeared. Everyone else was faced with the revered black, white and gray. However, Yuki experienced a color palate broader than even a painter's greatest dream of mixed and blended hues.

Either way, Yuki would certainly never be a Math person in any sense. Which was why, when her teacher called on her at this very moment, she had no answer to give him.

"It's a simplistic equation, Yuki. All you have to do is solve for both 'x' and 'y' respectively."

Yuki froze. More than one variable was always a challenge, and Akako was of no use today – apparently doodles were very "in" at the moment.

A sigh broke through the growing silence. "'X' is five, and 'y' is two."

She looked over to the speaker, a green-haired bespectacled boy with a rather bizarre attachment to tape from what she could see; it was wrapped rather precisely around the fingers on his left hand.

Akako whispered to her rather conspiratorially, "Wow, Yuki, saved by Midorima exactly at the right moment." She smiled because she knew Yuki couldn't stand to have him help her yet again. This was slowly becoming a bad pattern.

Midorima turned around at exactly the instance that Akako opened her mouth and gave Yuki a glare. It would make sense that he could answer the question so quickly; he was one of the highest ranking members in the class.

"_So annoying. I'm in one of the smartest classes in the school and I can't even answer a 'simplistic' equation properly."_

"Hey, Yuki."

She looked over at Akako who was still entirely immersed in her doodle, which was slowly becoming a full-out drawing of . . . a flower. "Hmm?"

"You do realize basketball has some math involved, right? As does any sport?"

Yuki slowly sunk further into her chair in embarrassment. It was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

The final bell had rung for the day, signifying after-school clean-up and club-activities. Yuki quickly shuffled all of her notebooks and pencils into a disheveled heap and threw them in the bag completely unfazed by the organized disarray that probably made sense only to her.

It was time to escape to her humble abode – the library. However, her optimistic escapade was cut short for the first time in a long while.

"You do realize that that's the fifth time I've already had to answer a math problem you couldn't solve."

It wasn't a question. It was a pointed statement.

Yuki didn't even have to look to know who was speaking to her. "Your point?"

"I continued to wonder why – math-wise – the grade average has been relatively low since the beginning of the quarter, and now I see that all reasons point to you."

"Are you here to continue to make me feel bad or are we on the verge to a solution?"

Gliding over the question, Midorima continued, "So, I've been – unfortunately – tasked to help you with your math skills. However, I have basketball practice for a good portion of the afternoon on most weekdays."

Yuki sighed. There's no way she was getting a tutor for math. He'd eventually find out about the numbers and the colors, and she didn't need another reason to have him be annoyed with her. Why was everything going horribly wrong today?

She tried to shrug it off. "You really don't have – "

Cutting her off, Midorima made sure to throw a final curveball at her. "So, after discussing it with the captain and the coach, I've decided that you'll help Momoi."

At this point, Yuki was beyond bewildered. Who on earth was Momoi and why did she need help? Wasn't she the ignoramus who couldn't solve math problems and needed a tutor? Wasn't she the one who needed the _most_ help?

Appearing to have acknowledged the increasingly pale features on Yuki's face, Midorima carried on, "She's the manager for the basketball team and somehow continues to complain on a daily basis about how she'd love to have another person help her out in handling the lot of us on the team. So, during practices, you'll help Momoi, and afterwards, I'll . . . _enlighten_ you on how most people actually do math."

Yuki's jaw dropped. You read a basketball manual for a day and suddenly you find yourself assisting in managing a team.

Midorima began to walk away while Yuki inwardly questioned her entire existence until she noted a rather green presence come near her yet again.

Clearing his throat to get her attention, Midorima said, "Practice starts now," as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Yuki nodded.

Midorima sighed. "Meaning: You start now."

* * *

Stepping into the gymnasium with a purposely entirely different from typical gym class was completely new and daunting to Yuki. Teikou took sports a little too seriously in her opinion; practices were rigorous, the games, radical, and the coaches . . . far from friendly.

Perhaps those three ingredients were the ones that created perfection, seeing as Teiko never lost. Their reputation seemed spotless, revered and honored by all middle schools, another reason as to why Yuki's poor math score was probably becoming a glaring misdemeanor in the gradebook.

A different issue was becoming more noticeable: Midorima was tall; Yuki was not as tall. Each of his strides took up at least two of hers. By the time they had reached the gym, Yuki felt like she'd been running to catch the train. She put her hands on her knees to calm her breathing.

While she attempted to regain homeostasis, Midorima went to open the doors, and then seemed to realize he forgot something. So, he paused and slowly turned to her.

"Yes?" Yuki said, still rather breathlessly.

"Do you follow the zodiac signs?" He gave her an intense gaze as though her very existence depended on her response to the question.

"Like that um, once second, the uh, Oha Asa horoscopes?"

Midorima gave a curt nod. Apparently she was doing rather well. Maybe her existence was going to make it.

"Well, occasionally then, I suppose. Mine never seem to truly work out as well as I hope." Yuki reflected on her past encounters with horoscopes: they never really fit her personality type.

"Because you don't strictly follow them on a daily basis."

"Oh, okay! Sure. I'm not going to get into a lifelong contract with Oha Asa horoscopes. Come on!" Like she needed to her a devoted follower of these nonsensical horoscopes preach to her about how she had to live her life.

And then it hit her. "Wait, aren't you late to practice?"

Midorima sighs. "You missed the point."

"How on earth did I miss a point that was never there?"

"The lucky item."

"The lucky item? What about it?" Yuki pauses. "No way. You don't honestly carry one with you –"

"Every day, yes. So, here's your first assignment, Assistant Manager." And with that, the bizarre bespectacled boy left Yuki in the company of an . . . orange.

* * *

Momoi was a bundle of pink wrapped in chaotically positive energy negated by her boisterous undertones and unbelievably well-gifted bosom. Meaning: Momoi was the antithesis to everything and anything that Yuki was.

Momoi was the Yuki she never could be, and it was a strangely entertaining feeling to be near someone so unlike yourself.

Of course, their meeting was anything but normal. Yuki was subjected to jumping into the gym rather timidly, witnessing a great multitude of already sweating and tall boys with ages ranging from beneath her to above her. After walking around the gym with a few intrigued glances her way, Yuki came close to the . . . coaches, she assumed. As she approached, she bowed in respect, only to have the main coach look away.

Apparently she wasn't the most important thing to cover in the gymnasium today – not that she minded. Yuki was almost entirely positive that she looked like a mess: hair windblown from attempting to reach Midorima, her school bag slightly open with homework and notes practically asking to fly away and a random orange in her hand; Yuki was far from assistant manager material, that's for sure.

Well, to all besides a certain bubbly pinkette. The minute the coach walked away, the girl all but tackled Yuki in her excitement.

"You came! You came!" She repeated needlessly for a couple of seconds. "I am so, so excited! There's never enough girl's on this bench and personally, I was getting lonely!"

Yuki actually cracked a small smile after her loud and extravagant display of desire for femininity in a room that positively screamed masculinity.

"And you are?"

"Oh! Satsuki Momoi! I totally forgot. I had a feeling Midorin wouldn't tell you everything!"

"_Midorin? She gave that grumpy green-haired boy a nickname?"_

After Momoi revealed her name, it finally clicked. "Does the kanji for 'Momo' in your name mean 'pink?'"

Momoi looked at Yuki mildly surprised, and then laughed. "How'd you know?" Yuki subtly pointed to her hair and smiled.

Yuki was about to introduce herself out of politeness, but Momoi eagerly continued, "Well, you don't need to introduce yourself because I already looked into everything about you, which is why I thought you'd make an excellent candidate for this!"

Yuki looked over at Momoi with great concern. "You . . . you did what?"

"Oh, yes, of course! I should explain. I love analyzing things, especially about people and players I come into contact with. So, I accessed everything about you!"

"So, there's a file about me on your computer."

"Multiple files, actually. Why? I don't always share what I find unless it's really important. Don't worry. I just wanted to verify that grade-wise and extracurricular-wise, you'd be able to help out without damaging your education." Momoi smiled. "Well, save for your math grade, but that's why Midorin is going to help you!"

"_Great. Thanks for reminding me."_

Yuki decided to move the subject from herself to her new "position" on this basketball team. "So, uh, thanks, yeah. How does this whole 'assistant manager' thing work exactly?"

"Hmm, well, you'll see. Maybe you'll get drinks or help with towels, or things of that nature. I mean, you've already helped a lot by carrying Midorin's lucky item. It's really precious, so don't drop it!"

With that, Momoi began to slowly walk away to the coach.

"B-but it's an _orange_! An orange can't be that precious! Vitamin C isn't that great!"

Staring deeply into the orange, Yuki realized that her fears of today being rather long were becoming truer and truer.

"_Maybe I should have looked at my stupid horoscope today. It must've said I had really, really bad luck."_

* * *

"And you are?"

Yuki looked into the dark pools of the coach's eyes and shrunk back in mild fear. "Morine Yuki."

Kouzou Shirogane seemed to look kind and sincere, but in reality, any one could see there was a passion for victory and a ruthlessness to achieve it at any cost.

The coach seemed to scold her with his eyes. "This sport isn't one for the meek. Even though some members seem to believe you'll be a strong addition to the team," he glances at Momoi and Midorima, "I have yet to be convinced. Do your best."

Yuki nods. Multiple times. _"Who knew older men could be so frightening?"_

"Everyone is expendable unless made permanent."

Yuki nods again. "_And threating."_

"_And why was I put into this sport again? All because I read a manual on basketball? Why am I so bad at math?!"_

Momoi bounced into Yuki. "Yuki! Isn't this going to be so much fun! I can't wait for the whole season now! Unfortunately, your name is too simple, so I'll have to come up with a nickname later!"

"_A nickname? Please don't; save yourself the trouble."_

Yuki just nods – a common motion in the management position apparently.

"Bye, Yuki! Good luck at your math lesson with Midorin! You'll do very well!"

And with that last remark and an unbelievably vivacious wave, the pink-haired bundle of energy bounced away with a tall and tan boy whose name was easily forgotten to her, as many names were thrown at her in a tizzy today.

Looking away, a voice broke her reverie. Someone really wanted something back.

"Do you still have it?"

Yuki looked up. "The . . . orange?"

"My lucky item, yes, do you have it?"

"Yeah, you realize you just acknowledged that an orange can be lucky, yes? And that apparently it's rather 'precious?'"

Midorima stuck out his hand rather pompously. "Give it."

Yuki reached into her bag and placed the orange into his hand questioning why this entire interaction was even taking place. Who knew oranges were really that great? Yuki didn't even like oranges – they were far too citrusy in the first place.

"So, your lesson then?"

Yuki begrudgingly nods and then practically runs to catch up with the green-haired boy.


	4. There are Legends

The hardest thing about updating a story after having not written for several months is realizing you entirely forgot what direction you were going in after the previous chapters.

Anyways, I'm back, and I have another chapter for you all!

Happy reading!

_Disclaimer: {I do not own anything Kuroko no Basuke related, unfortunately. I do own my OCs, Ayako, Akako, and Yuki. Quote belongs to Albert Einstein.__}_

* * *

Chapter IV: There are Legends

* * *

_Do not worry about your difficulties in Mathematics. I can assure you mine are still greater. – Albert Einstein_

* * *

"I wonder . . ."

He'd broken off, seemingly lost in his own bizarre train of thought. For an athlete, Midorima Shintaro was anything but active off the basketball court. It seemed to Yuki that as soon as he sat down, he seemed to become rather melancholy and stagnant – save for his excellent, yet stiff posture.

She'd been staring at him for three minutes at this point, only waiting for him to finish his sentence as she nibbled at her thumb nail. His lack of conversation made her nervous. She already felt slightly off-kilter from being placed on the spot in the gym to sitting alone with a giant, spectacled student who knew next-to-nothing about her. Finally realizing he wasn't going to speak up at any point in the near future, Yuki huffed and looked down at the extra packet her teacher had given her. Supposedly, this packet was the only cure-all to garnering a better score on the next test – not that Yuki believed a word of it.

Twirling a strand of hair, she looked at the first problem and immediately recoiled in disgust. The entire packet was filled with word problems and fractions, a combination of two extremely frustrating concepts annoying enough when left alone. When combined, they made for an unforgiving hour or two filled with suffering. Her color perception was not kind in this area of mathematics either.

"Quit being so dramatic," Midorima's voice called out to her after she'd pushed her chair back. "The packet has only a few problems. It just looks like there's more due to the fact they're word problems."

Yuki crossed her arms and glared at him. "I'm not being dramatic. These word problems are the reason anything math related automatically lowers my rank in the class. I'm just not confident in doing them."

At that, Midorima pinched his nose and raised his head to look at the ceiling of the room they were in. "Just read the problem."

Biting her lip, she looked down at the piece of paper and began the slow, agonizing process of reading each problem aloud, having Midorima ask what seemed the most important and going from there. She'd thought about mentioning her Synthesia, but realized that he probably would not have believed her anyways. Shockingly enough, however, was that what originally would have taken her more than an hour and a half was reduced to forty-five minutes – an obvious improvement.

"You'll have to work on it on your own. I'm not going to be there telling you what to circle when you take the test."

Yuki looked up from her bag, having finally put everything away. He'd already left his seat and was standing by the door, bag over his left shoulder, glasses being held in place with his index and middle finger.

"_What now? Was I seriously moving too slow for him?" _

"I know, I know," she grumbled out. "I've taken plenty of tests without your help, thank you very much!"

"And I'm sure you know as well as I do that the grades were never quite good."

Yuki clenched her jaw in annoyance while they left the building.

* * *

They'd traveled a portion of the way together without talking before he branched off in one direction, her in the other.

The entire time they walked, the only thing Yuki had on her mind was the lack of reasoning as to why Midorima Shintaro did not like her. She'd gathered that she was opinionated when it came to certain aspects of school and was also extremely quiet and only spoke when necessary. However, she truly could not wrap her head around any other reasons as to why she'd been a thorn in his side for what felt like an eternity, yet was truly only a few hours.

"He's so weird," she said aloud while entering her neighborhood. "He barely tolerates me, as though I'm so unappealing, yet there's nothing appealing about him. He's rude, far too tall for someone my age, moody and has some bizarre obsession with horoscopes and lucky items."

Brooding the rest of the way home, she walked up the steps and entered her house. She could see only the living room light on, a clear sign dinner had already been served. Walking quietly past the kitchen, she slowly ventured up the stairs, only to have a strong hand take hold of her wrist and spin her around full-circle.

"And where have you been, Yuki? We've been worried sick!" Much too close to her stood her father, looking pensive and relieved to see her. He clung to her wrist as though at any point, she'd be wrenched from his grasp and taken away.

She'd realized earlier that her parents would probably start to worry when she didn't come home at her normal time, but she also failed to include the amount of time spent doing her school work. Rather than answer him directly, Yuki decided to take a slightly more sarcastic approach to his question.

"I was out."

"You were out."

"_Clearly, he isn't buying any of that," _she thought nervously.

"Yes."

He sighed, exasperated. "Yuki, we thought you disappeared, and here you are making it into a joke."

Meeting his eyes, she realized she'd made a mistake. Her parents had really been concerned. "I thought that'd make you laugh." He glared at her. "Fine, fine! I was forcibly inducted, kidnapped, whichever you prefer, to be an assistant manager in a club, which means I'll – unfortunately – be coming home later like this more often." A partial portion of the truth.

Ayako popped her head out of the living room. "A club? You were pushed into a club? Who'd want someone as lame as you in their club?"

Yuki rolled her eyes. "Nobody would want you either, you multi-culturally fetish-happy lunatic."

Ayako stuck her tongue out and went back to watching the television.

Completely ignoring his daughters' banter, her father replied, "Well, that's great!" At that, he began to laugh. "It's good to see you're finally getting involved beyond simple academics." Letting go of her wrist, he fluffed her hair and then began to walk away. "I just wish you'd known sooner so I didn't have to hear every single possibility of where you could have gone for the past few hours by a certain extremely worried mother."

Smiling, Yuki began her travel to her room. She'd mention everything she experienced at some point – just not yet.

* * *

"So, what happened?"

Yuki flipped to the next page in her book. "Nothing."

Akako scoffed unbearably loudly, "Oh, really, Yuki? Nothing happened. You were sent to be an assistant manager for our unreasonably good basketball team while being under the tutelage of the one, the only, Midorima Shintaro, and all you have to say is 'Nothing,' in a totally monotone voice."

Yuki shrugged.

"Oh, no! No, you do _not _get to weasel your way out of this one." At that, Yuki looked up, mildly nervous. Akako's flaming hair seemed to puff up around her, a look reminiscent of a lion's mane. It was these moments that left Yuki concerned for her well-being. "For the first time in your entire life, you've gotten involved with not one, but an entire group of people without any books involved. And you're finally going to get that opportunity to have the highest grades in the class! Why are you holding out on me?" The whine in the last question was so tangible, Yuki could feel it reverberate into her inner ear.

"Because – like I said – nothing happened. I sat and watched a bunch of sweaty guys practice and then worked my brain until it basically turned to mush reading and re-reading word problems while going mildly insane with the most annoying person in the entire world," she sighed to catch her breath. "It wasn't bad; it wasn't great. It happened and it'll continue to happen because I'm stuck in this position now. Happy?"

"Extremely so! That was the most passionate I've ever seen the Ice Queen get." She began to giggle at her own comment. "But come on! Are you trying to tell me none of the guys on the team caught your eye?" Akako winked, as though Yuki were genuinely holding out on her.

Yuki shook her head. "I was there to watch their _techniques_, not their physiques, remember? I've never actually played the game."

Akako raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you are such a bore, my dear! You must learn to live a little."

After looking around the room, probably to see if anyone she recognized had come into class, she turned back at Yuki and asked, "Well, what about Midorima?"

Yuki groaned. Her book was just starting to get good, when that menace's name was spoken. "What about him?"

"Uh, hello, that's what I'm asking you!" She laughed again. "Sometimes, I swear, you are too weird. What was he like? Was he nice? Did he talk to you outside of just lame-o math problems? I gotta know, Yuki!"

Flashbacks from the evening before began to flash through her memories. "He was weird. Rude. Talked about math. Left me alone. Midorima Shintaro."

She looked at Yuki in disbelief. The short sentences were apparently too brief. "Oh, and he likes horoscopes and carrying useless items wherever he goes. Lives by them."

"You're lying!"

"I most certainly am not. There is nothing appealing about that boy. I'd rather fail math than sit in a room with him for an extended period of time." At that, Yuki looked back down at her book, excited to read what happens next.

"Oh? Did Shintaro really bother you that much?"

Yuki flinched in shock. Out of all of the voices she could have imagined breaking her out of her novel-induced trance, Akashi Seijuurou's never even entered her mind. He'd gone from simply glancing at her, to even walking over and speaking to her. Such an event was unheard of. She couldn't think; she couldn't speak. So, instead, she sat with her mouth slightly agape, positively looking like an idiot.

Akako realized quickly that Yuki'd officially gone on shut-down. "She's overexaggerating. She always does that when she starts something new. Change bothers her."

Yuki failed to even register the fact her dislike of change had been mentioned. The only thing she could think about was the fact that someone with the grandeur of a king paired with the subtleness of a deer had entered her two-person bubble and ceased all regular brain function in her mind.

She was lost in that sea – that brilliant sea – of fiery red.

While Yuki slowly remembered that it's important to breathe, Akashi continued to stare at her, clearly waiting to hear her response and entirely ignoring Akako's. "Uh, well," she bit the inside of her cheek, knowing she sounded even dumber than she could have imagined. "I mean, it wasn't _bad_, really. I just – I obviously annoyed him in some way, as he was acting rude . . . that's all."

He studied her for a moment before shaking his head. "Shintaro has a blunt manner of speaking. You'll get used to it." Akashi turned back towards the direction of his desk. "Before I forget: I was asked to tell you that the third string players need to be looked at. There may be promising individuals we dismissed earlier." With a nod, he proceeded to sit down, back in his usual spot, his autumn red hair burning a hole in Yuki's gaze.

She and Akako gave each other a long, knowing look. Somehow, for some reason, a miracle had just occurred right before their very eyes. The enigmatic student had graced them with his presence; these lowly, argumentative girls had just been visited by a legend in the making.

And yet, Yuki would soon come to understand that garnering the attention of a legend would be as much a curse as a blessing in the long run.


End file.
